Friendship and Goodwill
by Stormkpr
Summary: A short fic that takes place during the episode “Danse Time”, focusing on the Misfits’ interactions with each other. Told from Stormer’s point of view. COMPLETE


**Friendship and Goodwill**

_Author's Notes:_

This fic takes place during the episode "Danse Time". It is intended as a stand-alone fic; you do not need to have read any of my other stories in order to know what is taking place during this one. However, this story could also be viewed as a prequel to my "Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It" fic.

I feel compelled to point out that, although this story is rated PG, it does contain one instance of profanity.

Hugs and thank-yous to my beta-testers, Denisia and Severine. You two are the best!

* * *

I had been to Meter Motorcycles once before. Soon after I joined the group, I learned that Pizzazz and Roxy both loved to ride. I was too chicken to get behind the wheel of one of those things myself, so I'd always team up with one of the others until the day Roxy showed me how to ride. She said that it wasn't any harder than driving a car – just different. Riding so fast and being so exposed was a thrill but it also created a terrified ache in my gut the entire time. So today I was only going along with riding solo on a motorcycle for the purposes of filming this video, and would be relieved when it was over.

I looked around that day at our surroundings. A huge mustard-colored sign towered over the expansive parking lot. Motorcycles were parked everywhere -- different sizes, colors, and shapes, lounging around and begging to be ridden. Inside, the showroom had been scrubbed sparkling clean (never thought I'd say that about a place that sold motorcycles) in anticipation of our arrival. The huge glass windows nearly glistened.

Outside, the film crew milled around. Standing on the concrete in my heels and feeling the glare of the filming lights above me, I began to feel a bit tired. If I felt that way, it was a sure sign that my bandmates would be at least ten times grumpier.

My ears perked up when I heard Roxy's voice. It sounded like tacks and nails being chewed on and I sure didn't envy the person to whom it was addressed.

"Watch your finger, Rouge! You nearly poked my eye out!" Roxy bellowed at the startled make-up artist, who stammered an apology.

I stood off to the side, watching. Roxy's rudeness towards "servants" never failed to surprise and horrify me, especially given her own humble beginnings. I always thought that Roxy should know better, but maybe back in Philadelphia enough people treated her that way that she lost a sense of compassion, and wanted to distance herself from being seen as an underling herself as much as possible. Maybe Roxy was ashamed of where she came from, and playing in a band with a billionaire's daughter (and English royalty, though Roxy didn't believe Jetta's claims) probably didn't help her confidence either.

On the other hand, if someone nearly poked my eye out, I wouldn't exactly be thrilled either.

Jetta was seated next to Roxy and apparently decided not to miss a chance. "Too bad she missed, ducky," she taunted in her velvety English accent.

"Keep it up, Jetta and I'll knock you all the way back to Liverpool!" Roxy threatened, making a fist. I didn't think that Jetta was actually from Liverpool.

Pizzazz then stepped in and said, "Knock it off, you two! Let's get this video over with." She did that sometimes, made them cease their squabbling like a tired parent berating her kids.

I looked up again at the bright lights and silently tried to make excuses for my bandmates. It had been a long day. We had risen at 7:00 in the morning to get here and begin the shooting, and had gotten only a five minute break despite the fact that it was past noon and our stomachs were rumbling. Besides, we're not film stars. I never understood why actors said they couldn't stand filming, until we made _The Misfits Hit it Big_. All that standing around all day, waiting for the crew to set up, doing take after take...filming is hard work, and it gets boring after a while. We're rock stars, not actors, after all (as the box office returns for _The Misfits Hit It Big _so clearly reminded us). Making a video is like making a mini-movie, after all.

Filming the video's beach scenes two days ago – lying on the bright towels, surrounded by lush palm trees and very handsome male models, Pizzazz cavalierly throwing sand at the camera – had been much more enjoyable for everyone. I'd gotten sand in my suit during our frolicking in the water when the video was over and Jetta got a bit of a sunburn, but we had a good time. Pizzazz had unsurprisingly taken "her" model back to the hotel that evening.

"I want to go have some fun!" Pizzazz was proclaiming. There weren't any good-looking guys on this set.

"I think that shooting the video _is_ fun," I offered, and meant it. Despite the long hours and the boredom, I enjoyed thinking about the finished product and how it would highlight our music. Videos embellished songs, bringing life and color to them. I loved music and so I loved videos, no matter how grueling they were to film.

Unfortunately my sentiment was shot down immediately. "It's _work_, Stormer," Roxy said.

"Yeah, ducky," Jetta added, addressing me with what apparently was her new favorite term. "Hard work."

I bit my tongue and we got back to filming.

An hour later we were done with the video. Thankfully lunch had been ordered and was on its way. I needed to use the ladies' room. As I walked inside the store, for some reason thoughts of Kimber Benton jumped inside my head.

I remembered how different things were when Kimber and I filmed our video for "I'm Okay." No fist-fights. No griping. Everyone was polite to the crew. I was tired of making excuses for my bandmates' tantrums. It was getting old.

* * *

As with the showroom, Meter Motorcycle's bathroom was spotless. My legs were weary and I sat there for a while, wanting to be alone.

Then I heard voices and the creak of the bathroom door opening. Without thinking and totally on impulse, I hoisted my legs up so that no one could tell I was inside one of the three stalls.

"I'm so glad this shoot's over," one of the women said.

"Me too! And I'm not working with the Misfits ever again," the other woman added. I peered at them, looking through the tiny space between the stall's door and side. They stood in front of the mirror and rummaged around their bags, pulling out make-up and hair care products for an apparent touch-up.

"I can't believe those bitches," the first woman said. "What a nasty bunch. Well, Stormer's okay, but the rest of them…."

"They were rude to everyone on the set today. Guess how much damage Pizzazz caused to that camera on the beach set?"

"How much?"

"Oh, about $2,000 worth!"

The other woman gasped, and then added, "Did you see when Jetta and Roxy almost got into a fight with each other today? I think they might've started hitting each other if Pizzazz hadn't told them to stop."

"I must've missed that. But it doesn't surprise me one bit." I heard the hiss from a can of hairspray being deployed and there was a lull in the conversation. My legs began to cramp.

The woman who'd just spoken asked, "Okay, how do I look now?"

"Fantastic! If Mike doesn't notice you today, he's either blind or gay."

"He'd _better_ notice me today. He's leaving for a shoot in New York on Monday."

The two finally left the bathroom and I gladly put my feet back on the floor. I walked towards the sink and looked at myself in the mirror.

The first part of what they said didn't bother me. Plenty of people had noticed our rudeness and commented on it before; nor was this the first time that the "B word" had been used to describe us. People noticing what a softie I was also had happened before. No surprises there. But as I felt the warm water wash away the soap on my hands, I thought about the rest of their comments.

* * *

When I exited the bathroom, lunch had arrived and the gleeful smacking of lips could be heard.

"Where've you been?" Roxy asked me, though her tone was 180 degrees different than the one she'd used with Rouge.

I dodged the question as Jetta handed me a sub sandwich. "These look good," I said, sitting in my chair on Pizzazz's side and pushing back the paper to reveal a packed sandwich, with tantalizingly oily vegetables and meat slices stuffed between thick bread.

"They're messy though," Roxy said, talking with her mouth half-open and full of food. Her chin was a bit shiny.

Pizzazz made an amused face at Roxy's open mouth, but she didn't seem perturbed. She's probably used to Roxy's lack of table manners (and is not exactly known for having impeccable manners herself). I smiled watching them and Jetta chomp away. They were so happy when food was around, Roxy in particular. She gestured for Jetta to pass her some mustard and Jetta did so politely.

I silently chewed my sub, hardly tasting any of it. My brain, however, was in full gear. Roxy and Jetta were getting along just fine during our lunch. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that neither woman ever seemed to carry any lingering resentment after their scuffles, which made me think that their fights might all be surface anyway -- like two siblings who needle each other out of habit more than anything.

Eric Raymond pulled up in his van.

"Where've you been?" Pizzazz asked our creepy manager. "We've already _finished_ the video!"

"Well, junk it," Eric ordered.

"Junk it?" Roxy echoed, shocked.

"It's terrific!" Jetta protested.

"We've got to make a different video. One with a theme of friendship and goodwill," Eric explained, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Friendship?" Jetta repeated.

"Goodwill?" Pizzazz mocked.

"Sounds nice," I piped up. At my bandmates' stony stares, I tried to backpedal. "Well….only if you like…friendship and goodwill," I added, my face turning red.

"Maybe if I told you we could win $250,000, you'd like it better," Eric said. He piqued our interest and went on to explain the contest sponsored by Richard Xanthos.

"Fine, Eric," Pizzazz was saying. "We'll do it – even though friendship and goodwill are for wimps! But we're sure as hell not doin' any more work tonight!"

"Yeah, we're playin' pool back at the mansion," Roxy added.

"We are?" I asked, a smile beginning.

"We talked about it when you were in the loo," Jetta explained. "You like it, don't you?"

"I love pool," I said, truthfully. We all did. God knows we've played enough of it together. I idly wondered how many hours we'd logged playing pool and other games.

Pizzazz added, "I got in the mood for it when I danced on the pool table during the video."

"Hey, instead of taking the van, let's ride the bikes there!" Jetta suggested.

We gleefully found our helmets and reached for the motorcycles. Pizzazz gestured for me to sit behind her on her bike of choice. I put my arms around her waist in silent gratitude and we were off.

THE END


End file.
